


everyday, everywhere, everytime.

by moonkid28



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boxing, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boxer Bokuto Koutarou, M/M, Mild Blood, Minor Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26474380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonkid28/pseuds/moonkid28
Summary: Koutarou is ever-changing. In this, he is unchanging.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10
Collections: Bokuto Week 2020





	everyday, everywhere, everytime.

Koutarou comes home every night with bruises on his knuckles and an ache in his step.

“Sorry for the intrusion,” he calls everyday, “I’m home, ‘Kaashi.”

He stumbles in with loose hair, wrestling his duffle from his shoulder like he’s done everytime before and dropping it by the couch; with his unsurprising consistency, he falls face first into the cushions.

“I won.”

And every evening, only then does Akaashi speak up from his place in the kitchen, ceasing his measured concentration over his work.

“Welcome home, Bokuto-san. Congratulations on your wins.”

“S’just a bunch of no-decision matches,” he murmurs, but sure enough, Akaashi hears pride seeping into his voice through the heavy weariness.

“Even so,” Akaashi says, half a concession, and Bokuto raises his fist in the air, victorious.

“Toss me a drink?”

“Of course.”

A protein shake from their fridge, a couple clementines from the bowl on the table, and Akaashi is on his knees in front of Bokuto, coaxing him until he sits up for him.

Everyday, Keiji looks at the man in front of him, scans for new cuts and bruises— Koutarou is what they call a  _ bleeder,  _ cutting easy and frequent— pulls out the first aid kit from under their coffee table like it’s second nature, and every day, if Koutarou is good, patient while he tends to him, he’s rewarded.

_ A boxer.  _ Keiji had to fall in love with a fighter, he muses, as Bokuto frowns at the sting of alcohol on his cheek, though he stays put. Akaashi doesn’t even like fighting; he wasn’t one to wrestle with his cousins as a child, to start playground fights for dominance or snacks. No, Akaashi was calm, steady, more a person of well-chosen words than anything else.

_ “Coming in at 87 kg and 190 cm, he’s just under full heavyweight qualifications, it’s Koutarooooooooooouuu Bokutoooooooo!!!” _

_ “Up against the ropes and he’s got him corner- Oh! The famous quick cross and he’s  _ **_down_ ** _!” _

_ “Quite the brawler!”  _

_ “And that’s a neat body shot, and he steps back with quick feet, allowing space for that beautiful uppercut, boom! There it is, knockout!” _

_ “This fierce new contender—” _

_ “The counterpunch is coming for him but he blocks with a nice coverup—” _

_ Koutarou drops into his corner, sweaty and out of breath. Spitting the mouth guard into Kuroo’s hand— “Gross,” he murmurs, like they don’t do this every week— Bokuto takes the water bottle from his cornerman and swallows what he can, wincing at the taste. Kuroo holds out the spit bucket just in time to catch what he expels. _

_ “You good? Bleeding anywhere, Airhead?” _

_ He huffs. “I’m good, Tetsu, can’t even feel it. I’m ready to go back out.” _

_ “You sure? I need you levelheaded, man, this guy’s between you and the champ.” _

_ “I  _ am  _ levelheaded, ‘Ro,” he starts, fighting down a temper, but his words are interrupted.  _

_ “Kuro!” Kenma yells, and they both turn, looking down off the canvas to where Koutarou’s sponsor is waving a phone. “Bo’s got a phone call, it’s ‘Kaashi!” _

_ Koutarou lights up instantly, making grabby hands as best he can through his gloves, and Kuroo laughs, taking the phone and holding it up for him. It’s a facetime call, to his delight, and Kou’s sharp eyes fixate on Akaashi’s tired eyes, his pink cheeks. _

_ “Bokuto-san,” Akaashi greets. “How are you doing?” _

_ “Last fight of the night!” _

_ “Trouble?” _

_ “No,” he says, scowling, until Tetsurou reaches down to smack the back of his sweaty head. “A little. He’s smart, he won’t let me get too close.” _

_ “Neither did I,” Akaashi reminds him, and Bokuto grins at him a little shyly. _

_ “Okay, but this guy’s not in love with me.” _

_ “I’d hope not,” Akaashi says, miffed, and Kou’s bad mood cracks like a walnut. His heart steadies, and his breath comes evenly through his amused little laughs. _

_ “I’m sorry I can’t be there, but i’m watching from the office. My whole floor is, look.” Akaashi flips the camera to show the office TV, his writers and editors crowded around it from over manuscripts, pitches, screentones. _

_ Bokuto blinks. “You’re all watching? Me?” _

_ Akaashi turns his screen around again, and smiles one of Koutarou’s favorite smiles, the soft one that’s calling him a little stupid, but in a way that means he loves him like that, will always love him like that. It hides his eyes, but he has a number of other favorite smiles that don’t, so it doesn’t matter. It only matters that it’s Akaashi. _

_ “Of course we’re watching you, Koutarou. Who else would I watch?” _

_ Koutarou  _ beams.  _ Akaashi, Akaashi, Akaashi. _

_ “Okay, ‘Kaashi! Keep watching me! I’m gonna win it for you!” _

_ “Win for you, Bokuto-san. Either way, you know i’ll keep watching.” _

_ “We’ve gotta go,” Kuroo yells, apologetic, and Akaashi nods, eyes still trained on Bokuto. Something in him tingles at the look in his dark eyes; nervous, he bites his bruised lips, imploring, and Akaashi graces him with his third favorite smile. _

I know you can do this,  _ this smile says. _

_ “I’ll see you at home, Bokuto-san.” _

_ Akaashi hangs up. Kuroo shoves his mouth guard back in while he’s still smiling dopily at the empty space Kenna’s phone had just occupied. A few jabs to his punch mitt, and he’s being sent out with an attitude very different to the one he’d come in with. _

_ “Knock ’em dead, prizefighter,” Kuroo shouts, slapping his ass, and Bokuto slams his gloves together, grinning like a cat. _

_ The ref holds their gloves, reminding them of the rules and etiquette in his droning voice— before he taps in as expected, he presses a kiss to his glove and shows it pointedly to the camera in a way that can’t be missed. _

Watch me _ , he mouths, and knows Akaashi is. _

“All finished?” Bokuto asks, and Akaashi startles out his memory.

“Let me get your hands,” he says, and Bokuto nods as he fetches the tape.

The wraps are tight and neat, same as a setter’s tape, in a few short seconds. Bokuto hums gratefully, squeezing Akaashi’s wrist in thanks.

“If you haven’t eaten, there’s rice in the rice cooker and grilled salmon wrapped up in the fridge. Sautéed leek, too.”

“Mmm.”

“Something wrong?”

“No,” he says. “You look distracted, so i’m trying to figure out why.”

Akaashi rolls his eyes, cupping Bokuto’s face. “And you didn’t think to ask me?”

Under his hand, Bokuto’s skin blooms hot, and he grins sheepishly, ducking his head. Akaashi shakes his head, huffing laughter into their apartment.

“I was thinking about your last big match. The one I missed because of that huge deadline.”

Bokuto blinks owlishly at him. “You didn’t miss it, ‘Kaashi, what are you talking about?”

His brow arches. “I most certainly did, Bokuto, unless I hallucinated my office the entire night.” Not that it was out of the realm of possibility. He’d absolutely hallucinated his grandmother the last time he’d stayed up for days on end, forcing himself to finish his edits. But that was different.

His boyfriend’s brows furrow.

“You definitely didn’t, you were there with me the whole time. You gave me a good luck charm before you left, you watched the entire match from your office, you called me on the phone and got me out of my slump. You even packed me snacks and a pre-workout meal. That’s not missing the match, Keiji.”

It was Akaashi’s turn to blink.

“Oh,” he says, because he can’t think of anything else.

Bokuto laughs softly. Gently, his battered hands twine with Akaashi’s longer ones, warm as always. He pulls him closer with a slight tug, and Akaashi goes cross eyed with the effort to keep looking at him.

“You’re always with me, Akaashi. Every fight, every practice, everytime I go to bed and every day when I wake up,” he says. His eyes, though lidded, glow with something Keiji believes he may never describe: ethereal, maybe? Predatory and sure? 

_ His wise old barn owl,  _ Kuroo had called it once, and unfortunately, he was inclined to agree.

Also unfortunate was the fact that this specific gaze, combined with a sweaty, beat up Koutarou, focused solely on him, tended to turn Keiji on (what? He’d been conditioned all of highschool and beyond by the euphoria that followed that gaze, on the court and everywhere else; leaving him, coming back to him, winning with him. Confessing to him.  _ Making love to him.  _ It was natural). 

“You stink,” Keiji breathes against his lips, startles when he realizes how close he’s grown to Koutarou without noticing.

And wasn’t that how it had always been?

“You’re mean, Akaashi,” Koutarou murmurs, slotting himself where Keiji’s red, red mouth had never quite closed. “You’re lucky you’re so pretty, ne?”

“I knew you were with me for my looks,” comes Keiji’s retort, and he eases their mouths together.

A lazy swipe of tongue into Keiji’s waiting mouth, and Koutarou hums, pleased. Akaashi’s hands tighten on the man’s firm thighs, his own tongue laving over the inside of Koutarou’s mouth.

Everytime, this first slow kiss tastes of iron; hot, and a little metallic, the flavor sends a zing through his bloodstream, as if he can sense Koutarou’s blood mingling with his own.

“Love you, Keiji,” he says, his eyes still luminous, but no longer holding that supernatural electricity. 

Either way, for Keiji, Koutarou is blinding.

“I love you too, Koutarou. Now go take a shower.”

“ _ Akaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaash—!” _

**Author's Note:**

> God I cranked this out in one day high as shit and still couldn’t stop them from being all schmoopy. Follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/cowboykillua?s=21) !! I talk trash and anime.


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